


Angels of rain and lightening

by ac_MaryAgnes



Series: Can Spring Be Far Behind? [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Diagon Alley, Gen, Going to Hogwarts, Harry has had enough, INTERNAL SCREAMING, Minerva McGonagall hates sending letters to parents, Raising Harry Potter, Severus Snape Adopts Harry Potter, Snape has had Enough, also angst, traumatic Hogwarts things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 06:45:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15479907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ac_MaryAgnes/pseuds/ac_MaryAgnes
Summary: Like the bright hair uplifted from the headOf some fierce Maenad, even from the dim vergeOf the horizon to the zenith's height,The locks of the approaching storm.Entry to Hogwarts and three years of end-of-term letters.





	Angels of rain and lightening

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, you're probably not going to like this very much. I wish I could think up more to put in this, or a way to smooth it out better, but I can't. And I'm sorry.

Michael woke before the sun the next morning. As he lay in bed, taking in the stillness, he thought about the past 10 years. They had been good years – far better than the 10 that had come before. Years of bigotry and hatred, years of fear and darkness. But ever since John Henry – ever since Harry – had come into his life, things had been so different. Raising a child on his own, building a business from the ground up… of course things had been difficult. But so much better.

Michael – Severus – remembered that first night all those years ago. Catching the bus from Privet Drive to the train station, coaxing little Harry to drink a bottle of potion-spiked formula. He was lucky he’d been able to find the ingredients so quickly – the original design was the mask the paternity of bastard children. At the time, Severus didn’t care that it was permanent. And over all, Michael supposed he still didn’t care, but entering the Wizarding World – getting so many steps closer to Harry’s true heritage – had him wondering.

“Oh Lily,” he sighed at the ceiling, eyes squeezed shut. “Please tell me I’ve done the right thing. I’ve done my best by that boy, done everything I could so he knew he was loved and safe. I’ve raised him the best I know how – the way I think you’d want him to be raised. And now…. What do I do now? Do I keep him away from himself, away from the prophecy? Though perhaps it doesn’t matter – prophecies come true whether you know about them or not, right?”

Michael released one last heavy breath – it was entirely too early to be thinking of such heavy thoughts. He rolled out of bed and decided to put breakfast on instead. John Henry’s alarm went off at 6 o’clock, and the boy strolled out of his room bright eyed and ready for adventure. John Henry babbled all through breakfast and the whole trip into the city. If Michael were a different man – an embittered, coarser version of himself – he imagined the constant chatter would annoy him. But this was his son, and he wasn’t that man.

Michael had splurged and gotten them a double room at the Covent Garden Hotel – incredibly expensive, but this was a special trip and Michael had the funds for it.

“ _Ohmygod_ , dad,” the boy breathed. “It’s so posh. We got a fireplace! Can we stay here next time we come?”

“It’s posh because it’s bloody expensive, John Henry. This is a treat, but when we come to drop you off for school, we’ll be staying at more modest accommodations.”

John Henry flapped a hand at his father, eyes still drinking in the room. “Nah, that’s fine. It’s still amazing, dad.”

“Well, put your things down – we still have to meet Professor Sprout down on Charring Cross.”

* * *

“So,” John Henry began, hopping a bit as they exited the hotel lobby, “are we going to pretend you can’t see the tavern? ‘Cause the professor doesn’t know you’re… like me?”

“We aren’t going to pretend anything,” Michael explained, grabbing his son’s shoulder to cross the street. John Henry had never really been in such a crowd before and heaven forbid the child get lost or run over. “Professor Sprout will meet us out front as agreed and anything I know, she’ll assume your mother taught me.”

“What if…” John Henry looked around furtively before continuing at a whisper. “What if someone recognizes you?”

Michael took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “While I appreciate your concern, that isn’t something you need to worry about. You focus on getting your school supplies. I’ll worry about everything else.”

Obviously dissatisfied, the boy sighed but gave a shout when he looked up. “Professor Sprout!” he called, tugging away from his father to dash ahead.

“Oh, _please_ be careful,” Michael pleaded under his breath.

* * *

The first spot of trouble they ran into was at Gringott’s bank. The currency exchange queue wasn’t that long – only about 10 people deep, most of them parents who needed to buy their student’s school things. Just one of the parent-child groupings had a Hogwarts professor accompanying them as the Stevens’ did. Michael wondered if it was sheer coincidence or a curse that professor was Dumbledore’s right-hand woman.

“Oh, John Henry,” Professor Sprout started. “Do you see the tall witch just there? Slightly older with tartan on her cuffs? That’s Deputy Headmistress McGonagall.”

“She signed my letter,” the boy recalled.

“Exactly right! She’s the transfiguration professor and Head of Gryffindor House. Looks like she’s escorting another new student – just like yourself, John Henry. Why don’t we go over and say hello? You could make a friend before term even starts!”

As much as Michael wanted to protest, there was nothing he could say without casting suspicion on himself. So when his son turned bright, questioning eyes his way, Michael took a deep breath and nodded. Even though all he really wanted to do was gather the boy up and run – out of Gringotts, out of London, out of England, Wales, Great Britain – to the other side of the world if he had to. Anywhere away from here that would keep them safe from Wizarding England, keep them safe from the past. That wasn’t meant to be, though, so Michael screwed his courage to the sticking place and followed his son, hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his dark trousers and face carefully blank.

Introductions were given – Mr and Mrs Granger, BDS, and their chatty, incredibly excitable daughter Hermione. All told, Michael supposed they were kind enough. And though the old bat looked at him perhaps a second too long, scrutinizing a face she may have recognized, Minerva McGonagall shook Michael’s hand all the same and kept her thoughts to herself. Michael slowly released the breath he’d been holding as the conversation moved on, answering polite questions about herbal remedies for tooth pain and such.

When Professor Sprout suggested they all move about Diagon Alley together – ostensibly to give the children a chance to make friends before the start of terms – Michael had to hide a grimace. The excitement and interest in John Henry’s green eyes had him swallowing his discomfort.

“Sounds grand, if it’s alright with everyone else.”

Thank god he’d always been an exceptionally good liar.

* * *

 

The second bit of trouble occurred after lunch in Flourish and Blotts. The group had wandered in to collect the children’s textbooks, and Hermione had started draging John Henry off to some corner to ooh and aah over all the titles.

“Your texts and one extra book, pumpkin,” Mr Granger had told the girl, trying to reign her in.

“But dad-“

“We have a budget to keep to.”

Hermione’s shoulders had slumped. “Alright. Come on, John Henry.”

Michael – not particularly interested in more discussions about muggle life – had wandered over to the potions section. It was exactly where he remembered it being as a child. Scanning the new missives and journals, he almost missed the stony, dark presence looming at his back.

“I almost didn’t believe it,” a cold, aloof voice sneered. “There, before my very eyes, a _dead man_.”

Severus made the calculated decision not to turn around. If he didn’t acknowledge the man, maybe he’d go away.

“Last time anyone had seen him, I said to myself, he’d just been released from prison. It has been 10 years, after all.”

Still not saying a word, Severus ran a carefully finger down the spine of _Practical Magic: Botany for Potioneers_  by Astevan Fabo Infante. (The back read: “Look for others in our newly translated  _Practical Magic_ series: _Build Your Own Beastiary_ by Pablo Pietro Animas; _Flying High_ by Hermio Diego Sanchez; _Timely Transfigurations_ by Matthias L de Cortez; and _Unlocking Ruins_ by Felicidad Alejos”)

“Perhaps I’m mistaken,” pondered the man behind him. “Perhaps I’m not seeing the wandering wastrel that begged for my guidence 15 years ago. Perhaps this isn’t the boy who so _desperately_ wanted to kill James Potter, he served up the whole family on a shining silver platter to the only true power he’d ever seen.”

Severus’ jaw clenched as his spine straightened. That hadn’t been what happened and the man behind him knew it. He was being goaded, poked at until he responded, and Severus refused to raise to the bait. However, just that one movement was enough for Lucius Malfoy.

“Ah, _I knew it_ ,” he hissed, bending close to Severus’ ear. “I _knew_ it was you. What the hell happened to you? Where have you _been_? How did you hide yourself from us for so long?”

“Got my books, dad!” John Henry chimed, rounding the shelves to find his father standing with a man practically breathing down his neck. “Whoa.”

Michael took a deep breath and spun away from the books towards his son, never once sparring a glance for the pale haired man demanding answers he’d never give.

“Lets double check that list then,” he breezed, steading his voice and gently taking the parchment from his son. “I can’t send you anything if you’ve missed it.”

As they walked away, Lucius watched them and seethed. He’d get his answers, one way or another.

(No, he wouldn’t; not for quite some time. He’d try – of course he would. Lucius Malfoy was both tenacious and full of rage, and woe betide anyone who held him from his task. He’d storm into Albus Dumbledore’s office and demand to see the list of students for that year, would scour every page for a young Snape listed. But the only 'S's listed for that year would be Smith, Sally and Stevens, John Henry; nothing in between.

However, Lucius would make the one startling discovery: Harry Potter's name was missing. Not that year, the year prior, or the year after. Harry Potter was gone.

It would be Lucius who smirked darkly at the headmaster, and Lucius who would feed that information to the right person who bent the ear of another who gossiped at just the wrong moment in front of someone who worked for the Daily Prophet.

And Albus Dumbledore would have to scramble to figure out just where little Harry was.)

* * *

In the dark hotel room, John Henry carefully lifted his brand new wand out of its box. It warmed in his hand, greeting him like an old friend. Like he had in the shop, he felt a honeyed, golden feeling tingling up his arm and settle in his chest, spreading through the rest of his body. This was right, more right than anything he’d ever felt.

“Dad?” he asked softly, just in case his father was asleep on the other bed.

“Yes, John Henry?” his father’s warm, deep voice swam through the dark.

“Why did you give your wand to mum’s family?” Because if every wizard’s wand felt the same as John Henry’s, he couldn’t imagine ever wanting to part with it. How could his father, who had been a wizard for much longer, _ever_ give up something that even now seemed so much like a part of him?

“If I had kept the wand, I wouldn’t have been able to keep you.” Michael couldn’t keep the sadness from his voice. “I can’t explain why exactly; that’s a discussion for when you’re a bit older, I think. But it wasn’t a difficult decision, John Henry.”

Actually, learning to live without his wand had been startlingly difficult at first, but he quickly adjusted to the change. Adjusting to John Henry and their town had taken a little while longer, but the wand went rapidly unmissed.

“What, um…” the boy seemed to waffle in the darkness. “What was your wand like?”

Michael blew out a breath and blinked up at the shadowed ceiling, digging up memories from long ago. “It was birch, with a thestral hair core. Not terribly flexible – horrible for transfiguration, but good for defensive magic. We had a duelling club when I was at school, and I was good enough to be champion a few years in a row. Your mother’s wand was made of willow, and while I forget the core, I remember it was good form charms. And she was absolutely brilliant at them, John Henry. I’d never met anyone with charm work like hers. She was fascinated by curses – that’s what she wanted to do, you know. I think if the war hadn’t gotten in the way, she might have gone on to work for Gringotts as a curse breaker, traveling the world to find treasure. She had an open heart and a spirit for adventure, your mother.”

John Henry twirled his new wand in his fingers, considering. “I wonder what I’ll be good at.”

* * *

_Sept 7, 1991_

_Dear dad,_

_The train ride was pretty dull. Hermione and I sort of stuck together. We found two other boys – Ron Weasley and Neville Longbottom – who are pretty nice so far. The Great Hall looks like something out of King Arthur’s days, dad – did it look like that when you and mum went here? And the castle is huge! The staircases move! And the grounds keeper is a giant! Alfie, Seamus and Christopher would go bonkers if they could see it. I know I can’t tell them anything, but you get it. There’s another Seamus here, from Ireland, and he’s already blown his eyebrows off twice. But Dean Thomas is here – you remember, from the London team we play during the summer? It’s pretty great to have someone around who knows something about football. This quidditch stuff sounds fun, though. Maybe I could get a broom for my birthday? Or Christmas. Did you play when you were in school? Anyway, we’re all in Gryffindor. I like the common room a lot so far. That’s the house mum was in, right? I hope she’d be proud of me._

_I miss you, dad._

_Love, John Henry._

* * *

_5 June 1992_

_Dear Mr Stevens,_

_At Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, an emphasis is placed on safety in every area of school. That includes communicating accurate information to you which may involve issues of safety. We wish to inform you of an incident that occurred yesterday evening involving your son John Henry Stevens and three other students._

_The four students in question wandered into a hallway that had previously been explained to them as out-of-bounds. As Hogwarts Castle is quite old, there are sections shut-down from students for their safety. Your son and three other students decided to take it upon themselves to explore one of these areas last night, breaking several school policies outlined in the document attached to this letter. I regret to inform you that all four students – including your son – were found by multiple staff members having sustained severe injuries._

_The students were transported to the Infirmary Ward for care and observation. Fortunately, these injuries were not life threatening and were treated quickly, but we will always take the proper medical precautions to ensure the safety and well-being of our students. I must also inform you that in the rescue of the students, one of our own faculty members, Professor Quirinus Quirrell, was fatality injured and passed away. Magical law enforcement has been notified, as is standard protocol, and an investigation will be held to determine the cause of this accident. Proper system protocol will be followed in preventing such an accident in the future._

_Having spoken to the children, we the staff members believe this was an isolated incident and will not be repeated in the future. Your child will be in full health by the time he is to return to you in one week’s time. Regardless, we would like you to be aware as we partner with you for the safety of your child. Thank you for entrusting your child to our care._

_Please contact me should you have questions._

_Sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_  
_Deputy Headmistress of_  
_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

* * *

John Henry sat slumped in the narrow bed. His face, when he turned to look at his father, was devastated.

“He just crumpled,” the boy confessed. “Like… like ash. And my head hurt so bad. D-dad I think… I think I killed him.”

Michael, not equipped at all to handle that confession from his eleven year old, simply gathered his son close and held him as a sob wrenched from the boy. Albus at one point attempted to peek his head around the curtain veiling John Henry’s bed from the rest of the ward, but the venom in Michael’s glare kept him away.

* * *

_30 May 1993_

_Dear Mr Stevens,_

_At Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, an emphasis is placed on safety in every area of school. That includes communicating accurate information to you which may involve issues of safety. We wish to inform you of an incident that occurred yesterday evening involving your son John Henry Stevens and two other students._

_As Hogwarts Castle is quite old, there are sections shut-down from students for their safety, including the tunnels underneath the castle proper. One of our younger students wandered accidentally into these very old tunnels and was unable to find her way out again. Hearing this younger student was trapped in one such tunnel, your son and another student decided to take it upon themselves to stage a rescue._

_Unknown to myself and other members of the staff was that during their inoccupation, these tunnels had become home to a snake-like creature called a basilisk. It has been determined that this is the creature responsible for the attacks on other students we wrote to you about earlier this school year. Fortunately, it is the only creature that has taken up unauthorized residence within Hogwarts’ walls, and has since been eradicated._

_….._

* * *

“You did exactly the right thing, John Henry, getting help.”

Dark corkscrew spirals tumbled this way and that as the boy shook his head. “But dad, Professor McGonagall was going to let Lockhart run away. She knew he would – Ron and I heard her. Ginny would have died – she’s only eleven – and Professor McGonagall _didn’t care_!”

“Then little Ginny Weasley is awfully lucky that you were there to _make_ her care.”

John Henry shot his father a troubled look. “I shouldn’t have had to. She’s a teacher and Ginny’s in her house. _And_ I had to fight the basilisk – how can I tell Seamus and Christopher and Alfie about this?” The boy ran trembling, worried fingers over the bandage on his elbow.

Michael bit his lip and brushed black curls back from his son’s thankfully still unmarked forehead. “I’m not sure you can, John Henry.”

Angry green eyes shot up, accusing in their directness. “So I have to **lie** to them, just like I had to last year.” John Henry shook his head, pulling away from his father, and glared at the ground beside the bed. “I don’t like lying to my friends, dad.”

His father placed a gentle hand on the bandage covering the wound on his son’s arm. Michael didn’t let the boy pull away again and waited until angry green eyes met his. “I know how much you hate it. But the things you’ve done, this place, what you can do… you can’t ever tell them about it, son. It’s against the law.”

John Henry bit the inside of his lip, looking mulish and unhappy as he thought. Whatever he would have said was eclipsed by the Weasley family bustling in, Molly practically throwing herself onto John Henry.

“ _Oh_ , you brilliant, _brave_ boy!” she cried, clutching Michael’s son up in a tight hug. Father and son shared a look under the woman’s arm. “How can we ever thank you?”

“You can start by letting the boy breathe, dear,” Arthur chuckled, putting strong hands on his wife’s shoulders to pull her back. “We are all incredibly grateful, but smothering him is perhaps not the way to go about it.”

* * *

_7 June 1994_

_Dear Mr Stevens,_

_At Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, an emphasis is placed on safety in every area of school. That includes communicating accurate information to you which may involve issues of safety. We wish to inform you of an incident that occurred yesterday evening involving your son John Henry Stevens and two other students._

_As you are aware, the criminal Sirius Black escaped from wizarding prison late last summer. As he had been reportedly spotted in the forest surrounding Hogwarts School, the Wizarding Government decided to post beings called Dementors – typically used as prison guards – around the school grounds. I feel the need to inform you this was done without permission from the School Board or members of the staff, to include Headmaster Dumbledore and myself._

_….._

* * *

John Henry let out a wretched sob and threw himself into his father’s stomach. Michael’s arms caught the boy, who clung to him as he shuddered.

“There was a werewolf and these stupid Dementors have been hanging around all year. And I know they can’t get the castle, but I could never sleep because they’re right there! You saw how they were on the pitch, but now it’s like that all the time, dad. And Ron’s rat… you know how he was lost? Well he wasn’t lost – he was a person, a murderer, and that Sirius Black guy, he’s been hiding in the woods and he killed him, right in front of us! He was a dog and he tore Ron's leg up and then he wasn't a dog and he killed him! And dad....” John Henry wiped his eyes and tried not to get snot on his father’s waistcoat. His voice changed, turning weak and small and so, so tired. “Dad, I don’t want to come back next year.”

Michael sighed and ran a hand over his son’s head. What the hell was going on? “Well, you have to learn magic somehow.”

The boy hiccupped and shook his head, green eyes pleading up at his father. “I don’t care. I just… I just don’t want to come back here. Please don’t make me come back, dad, please!”

Michael looked at the tormented anguish on his son’s face and knew what needed to be done. Gathering the boy back into his arms and pressing a kiss into his son’s riotous, black curls, he nodded.

“Alright, son; it'll be alright. I'll figure it out and it'll be alright. You don’t have to come back here next year, or ever. I promise.”

* * *

“Albus, I’m pulling John Henry from Hogwarts. He’s asked me to and for the life of me, I can’t imagine why I shouldn’t. _Three years_ here, and at the end every one I have to stand in the infirmary, watching over my broken son. The only thing he’s learning is to fight for his life and I won’t have it.”

“My boy-“

“ **No** ,” Severus thundered, slamming his hand down on the desk between the men. “My son isn’t safe here. He will no longer be attending your _prestigious institution_. I will figure other means to his magical education, and that is final.”

“Severus, you’re being far too hasty.”

“ **HE’S THIRTEEN!** ” Severus roared and the glass cabinets around them rattled dangerously. “ **NO THIRTEEN YEAR OLD SHOULD HAVE TO KNOW WHAT DEATH LOOKS LIKE!** That is a direct result of _your negligence_ , old man, and I will _not_ have my son exposed to it any longer!”

Behind him, a slow clap echoed into the room. “Bravo, _Mr Stevens_ ” Lucius Malfoy sneered as he stepped fully into the Headmaster’s office. “Really, I had never expected that sort of… ferocity from you. Well done.”

“And what brings you to my doorway today, Lucius?” Albus asked, trying not to sound as tired as he felt.

Lucius smirked. “Severus isn’t the only one unhappy with your recent track-record, Headmaster. The Board is awfully suspicious of what you’re allowing to go on here: a possessed teacher, several students almost dying, a werewolf on staff, allowing Dementors on school grounds?” The Malfoy patriarch gave a rueful shake of his head. “It’s become quite dangerous to be a child in these hallowed halls the past few years, according to my son. You have a lot to answer for, Dumbledore.”

**Author's Note:**

> Ch-ch-ch-changes. I debated giving this more chapters for covering the subsequent years, but I'm having a dash of trouble with those at the moment. So only this will be posted for now. Any encouragement is greatly appreciated.


End file.
